


Keeper of the Family Secrets

by sandssavvy



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Big Brother Mycroft, Brother Feels, Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Kid Fic, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Protective Big Brother Mycroft, from another child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 18:38:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9620435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandssavvy/pseuds/sandssavvy
Summary: Mycroft never let himself forget their childhood. When he can’t distract himself with work, it all comes flooding back.“You can close your eyes to reality but not to memories.” –Stanislaw Jerzy Lec





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [handsometabbyc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/handsometabbyc/gifts).



> A special thanks to my beta reader ServiceRevolver.  
> This fic is mostly flashbacks from Mycroft's POV and it is set before the series.
> 
> Also, I am accepting fic prompts to raise money for charity. See more details here if you are interested in contributing and getting a fic:  
> http://sandssavvy.tumblr.com/post/156823863010/donations-for-fics

Mycroft had recently turned ten and his little brother was following him through the garden. Sherlock toddled along happily as his wide eyes took in everything around him. He was an endlessly curious child. Mycroft hoped this meant he would be highly intelligent even if children are a bit dull at this age.

“Bird!” Sherlock declared excitedly. Mycroft had to rush over to grab Sherlock’s hand as the toddler attempted to follow a robin through the hedge.

“Now Sherlock, you aren’t wearing your play clothes. I won’t get in trouble because you got filthy right before tea.” Mycroft tried to pull him gently back from the hedge while Sherlock did his best to make it difficult.

When pulling away and clutching the bush didn’t do the trick, he surprised Mycroft by going limp in his grasp. Mycroft had to kneel slightly as he picked up the limp pouting form of his three year old brother. He would have to get a lot heavier before a trick like using his dead weight to get away would work.

“Mycoooft,” Sherlock whined as he was picked up and carried further away from his feathery quarry. His big blue eyes were fixed pleadingly on his older brother’s face as his little hands clutched at Mycroft’s shirt. He made a grand show of his suffering.

“You’ve already scared the bird away Sherlock, there’s no need to continue this behavior.” Mycroft futilely tried to reason with the immovable thought process of a three year old.  
Sherlock sniffed in dismay and tucked his face against Mycroft’s neck. Mycroft only had a moment to hope that Sherlock wasn’t going to leave snot on him before he realized Sherlock was mumbling something.

“What was that?” Mycroft asked while pulling Sherlock back a little so he could set him on his hip. Sherlock always got clingier when he was upset, so it would be cruel to set him down now. “You mustn’t mumble. People will think you’re rude if you mumble, and more importantly no one will understand you.”

“Wanted the bird,” Sherlock said sadly. His head was tilted down now as he stared forlornly at the hedge the bird had disappeared into. Mycroft gently ruffled his perpetually unruly curls.

A week ago Sherlock had gone to a play date at the Trevors’ home to spend time with a little boy his own age. According to Mummy the little boys were becoming fast friends but one of the things that stood out for Sherlock was that Victor had pets. A dog, two cats, a bird, and some fish according to Mummy and Sherlock.

Ever since he’d discovered his friend had pets, Sherlock was set on getting an animal companion of his own. Unfortunately, their father was allergic to animal dandruff. Sherlock was devastated by the discovery that he couldn’t have a lovely red setter like the one on the cover of his favorite book.

“Sherlock,” Mycroft said soothingly in his most reasonable voice. He tried to ignore the little sound of dismay that escaped Sherlock as he recognized Mycroft’s tone. “Wild animals shouldn’t be captured and turned into pets. That robin is pretty, but it likes exploring, and it might have a nest to take care of.”

“Nest?” Sherlock asked curiously.

“Yes,” Mycroft answered as if Sherlock had said a full sentence. “That was a female robin and this time of year it’s likely she has eggs or baby birds to raise.”

“So, no bird,” Sherlock said. He stared up at Mycroft sadly. This time Mycroft was alarmed to see real tears in his eyes. Sherlock was an extremely emotional child, but Mycroft hated to make him cry when he was only being practical.

“Well, not a wild bird at any rate. Maybe Mummy and Daddy will get you a bird from the pet shop or some lovely fish. Lots of children start with fish as pets.” Mycroft tried to reassure Sherlock as the little boy clung to him and hummed thoughtfully.

“It would be wise to only ask for a pet when Mummy and Daddy are in a good mood. Don’t ask for one after you’ve done something naughty.” Mycroft added before remembering toddlers lack common sense. “I’ll help you ask them. Just wait until I say it’s time.”

Sherlock nodded, but his attention had already turned to another creature that he could spot from his higher vantage point in Mycroft’s arms. “Snake, snake!” He excitedly reached his arms forwards as if he could propel himself out of his brother’s arms and to the green snake entering the other end of the garden through sheer force of will.

Mycroft clutched Sherlock closer as the little boy squirmed and attempted to escape. It took a moment for him to realize the snake in question was a harmless grass snake. Mycroft huffed out a breath which was a mix of relief and Sherlock knocking the air out of his stomach with his small elbows.

“Yes, that’s a green snake. Sherlock, shoving people doesn’t get you your way, stop that.” Mycroft paused for a moment so he could readjust his hold on the excited boy and set him back on his hip. “We can get a closer look at the snake, but you can’t run after it or grab it. This kind of snake is safe, but not all of them are, and I don’t want you to get in the habit of running after strange creatures.”

Sherlock’s whole body bounced slightly as Sherlock nodded vigorously. “I’ll be good.”  
Mycroft was sure Sherlock had taken in none of his warnings, but he set Sherlock down and took his hand anyway. It was tiring carrying someone else around. Even someone as small as his three year old brother.

He couldn’t trust Sherlock to look after himself yet, but luckily Sherlock had a big brother to watch after him. And if Mycroft felt proud of himself as he lectured his brother on proper animal safety as he led him to a harmless reptile, no one else needed to know.

\---

Sherlock was crying again. It was happening more and more often these days. When his little friend Victor wasn’t visiting, Eurus spent more time with him and the results were becoming alarming. She was only four years old but sometimes Mycroft caught himself avoiding her gaze or leaving when she entered rooms. It wasn’t decent behavior for an older brother but, despite her adorable appearance, something about her unnerved him.

He watched from down the hall as Sherlock ran away from Eurus. His little legs worked double time as he ran into his room and slammed the door. Mycroft sighed as he watched the open door to his sister’s room. She was always at her worst when Mummy and Daddy were out.

“What happened, Eurus?” Mycroft asked as he entered her room. She was sitting on the floor next to her rock collection. It looked like she was arranging them by mineral this time.

“He’s so emotional,” Eurus said quietly as she glanced up at him. “I’m trying to understand why.” She didn’t sound concerned, instead she sounded like a scientist in the middle of an experiment.

“Eurus, what did you do to make him cry?” Mycroft asked worriedly.

“I told him that he’s stupid and that’s why he’s Daddy’s favorite.” Eurus carefully arranged her obsidian pieces to the side. Mycroft’s gaze was drawn anxiously to the sharp black stones in the little girl’s hands. He wanted to believe he was only worried that she would accidentally hurt herself, but he couldn’t fool himself.

“Father is not stupid. You know you hurt Sherlock’s feelings, Eurus.” Mycroft tried to reprimand her, but he was interrupted.

“I know, that was why I did it. To see his reaction.” Eurus said. She sat up properly now and directed her full attention on him. Her pigtails swung gently against her cherubic face. “Sherlock knows he is smarter than most boys his age, but it still upsets him. I want to know why.”

“You can’t just experiment on Sherlock and call him stupid.” Mycroft tried to stay stern as his little sister watched him with an unimpressed gaze. “You wouldn’t like it if someone called you stupid, so you shouldn’t say it to him.”

Eurus cocked her head to the side like a curious bird. “Why does that matter? I wouldn’t believe them.”

“You don’t know that. Other people are capable of hurting our feelings.”

“I’m too clever for that.” Eurus said simply. She looked away from Mycroft and turned back to her rocks. It felt like a dismissal. As if she’d only cooperated in the hopes of learning something, and she didn’t care to hear anymore reprimands now that Mycroft had disappointed her.

Mycroft left her room and shut the door behind him. Their parents would be home soon. He would inform them of her transgression, and hopefully they would discipline her. She was far too good at talking herself out of trouble. For now his priority was checking on Sherlock.

Mycroft knocked gently on Sherlock’s door. He frowned in worry when he didn’t get a reply. When he opened the door, he couldn’t see Sherlock at first. Then he noticed a small lump in the center of Sherlock’s bed under his blankets.

“There you are,” Mycroft said quietly as he pulled back the blankets to reveal his bedraggled five year old brother. “For a moment I thought you’d disappeared.”

“Wish I could-” Sherlock’s sob of distress interrupted his speech, “disappear.” He was clutching one of his plush dogs to his chest.

Mycroft sat down on the edge of the bed and gently carded his fingers through Sherlock’s curls to soothe him. “What’s wrong?”

“She-she said I’m stupid, and Victor doesn’t really like me. She said his family is poorer than ours s-so they make him visit us so his family will have connections. She said that’s why I don’t have school friends. They don’t need our con-connections.” Sherlock was working himself up terribly now. His breaths were coming out in gasping sobs that shook his small body.

“That’s not true.” Mycroft said as he sat up against Sherlock’s headboard and gently pulled him into his lap. He hoped that would help calm Sherlock. Feeling someone else’s even breathing was supposed to help when you were worked up. “You’re very clever for your age. Remember? You had a test done at the school and they were impressed by how you compared to the other children.

“Victor’s parents are nice people. They aren’t the money grubbing social climbing sort who would force their son to spend time with someone he doesn’t like. Victor and his parents all like you Sherlock. Remember when he got in trouble last fall because he wanted you to have a pet? He went into the lake to catch a fish in his bucket even though it was terribly cold. Victor wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t like you.”

Mycroft propped Sherlock up a little and pointed to the small aquarium in the corner of Sherlock’s room. By now it hosted three fish. The first was caught by Victor. He and Sherlock caught the other two together so it would have friends. It was a terribly sweet memory. They’d had to change Victor into some of Sherlock’s clothes and wrap him in a bathrobe to keep him warm after his excursion in the cold lake. Sherlock wrapped himself and Victor up in a large blanket and cuddled up against him while they named the fish.

It was a closer friendship than any of Mycroft’s but he tried not to dwell on that. “If you have trouble making friends at your school it’s probably because you are younger than the other students in your year. Don’t worry about it. That will matter less as you get older.” Mycroft could feel Sherlock calming in his arms.

“You’re su-sure?” Sherlock asked quietly. He still clutched his plush dog to his chest as he looked up at Mycroft. His face was blotchy and swollen from crying and his eyelashes stuck together from tears.

Mycroft tried not to feel resentment toward Eurus over how she’d affected Sherlock. She’s only four years old, he reminded himself. He busied himself by taking a tissue from Sherlock’s bedside table and handing it to him.

“I’m absolutely certain,” Mycroft said with the air of someone who was never wrong.  
Sherlock sat up a little as he wiped his face and blew his nose. Mycroft felt a slight loss as he assumed his brother was going to pull away. Instead Sherlock bounded closer and pressed a kiss to his cheek. The troubled feeling that rested too often at the bottom of his stomach these days was replaced by a warm burst of affection. He tried to be dignified for his age, but it was a nice feeling to be at the center of someone’s unrestrained adoration.

For a little while, as Sherlock took his hand and led him over to the fish tank talking excitedly about the treasures he and Victor were planning on gathering for his pets, he allowed himself to forget his worries.

\---

Sherlock was in the hospital. He’d been playing on the beach of their little lake on a rocky outcropping and fell into the water wrong. Mycroft had been distracted by a book he’d brought with him while Sherlock explored, and hadn’t realized anything was wrong until he’d heard the splash.

Terror gripped him when he couldn’t see Sherlock in the lake. He’d searched for what felt like minutes but was probably only seconds before he found Sherlock under the water. When he pulled Sherlock out he was barely conscious and coughing up water. Blood and water dripped down from his scalp. Guilt has been weighing on Mycroft for not being more diligent ever since.

The result was a slight concussion and water in the lungs. They’d stayed by Sherlock’s side as long as the doctor allowed them, but after visiting hours ended Mycroft, Eurus, and their father went home. Mummy stayed at the hospital in case of an emergency. Mycroft had listened in on a hushed conversation she’d had with the doctors and knew they were worried that Sherlock might develop pneumonia from breathing in the cold lake water.

Mycroft didn’t know what was more unnerving; Sherlock’s injury, how uncertain his health was, or how Eurus kept staring at him. Once they reached home his father turned to him. His face was pale with exhaustion and worry, his cheerful bowtie undone from pulling at it fitfully.

“Do you think you could tuck your sister in?” Carlton asked. He looked ready to collapse. Mycroft wasn’t an active child, so his parents were unprepared for the onslaught of strange injuries adventurous children acquired when Sherlock was born. This was the worst so far.

“Of course,” Mycroft said even though he wished he could refuse. Eurus was still watching him intently after their father hugged them both and left for bed. “What?” He finally snapped when they were alone.

“Why are you so upset?” Eurus asked curiously. He felt like he’d been put in a slide under her microscope.

“Sherlock is hurt, of course I am upset.” Mycroft forced himself to speak calmly as they went to her room.

“But you aren’t hurt,” Eurus replied.

Mycroft tried to explain as he led her to bed. “It hurts us when the people close to us are hurt. Sherlock is in the hospital. It should upset you, too.”

She was quiet until he started to tuck her into bed. “He didn’t even fall that hard.”

Mycroft stared at her as the pit of dread in his stomach grew. “What makes you say that?”

Eurus froze; for once she looked wrong-footed. “They said his concussion wasn’t very bad. Wouldn’t it be worse if he fell hard?”

It was always hard to read Eurus’ expressions, but this time Mycroft knew he’d caught her in a lie. “What did you do?” Mycroft asked in a hushed voice. He felt like he was on the edge of a precipice. He needed to know the truth but he feared the answer. Without thought his hands clenched the edge of her blanket.

“Nothing. You would have seen me if I was there. After all, you were watching him.” She said and closed her eyes dismissively. While feigning sleep she looked like a picture of childhood innocence.

Mycroft watched her silently for a moment before he left the room. He would try harder to get Mummy and Daddy to agree to have her seen by a psychiatrist. Her attempts to bully Sherlock have gone too far. Who knows what would have happened if Mycroft hadn’t heard Sherlock splashing into the water.

\---

Of course, no one listens to the warnings of children, and they found out how far Eurus would go much too soon.

\---

Mycroft kept the family secrets because no one else could. He kept Eurus locked away and hidden where she couldn’t hurt their family. He gained as much power as he could in the government and knew he would not be helpless again. He monitored Sherlock to protect him, and to know if his mental defenses had finally fallen apart.

He was unsure how much Sherlock remembered of the time they spent together as children. Sherlock had edited his memories to the extent of replacing his dead friend with a dog and erasing his sister entirely. Mycroft doubted Sherlock remembered any of the times Mycroft attempted to comfort Sherlock after Eurus tormented him. They probably disappeared along with the memories of his sister.

If Sherlock couldn’t remember how close they were as children, it was a small price to pay for Sherlock to stay sane. However, as time went on it became clear that Sherlock was not truly recovering. He was emotionally withdrawn, he resisted opportunities to make friends, and he was self destructive to an alarming degree.

Every time Mycroft entered a drug den to find Sherlock incoherent or unconscious with a list gripped in his hand, he worried about why Sherlock ran to drugs. He doubted it was because of boredom or a need to calm his mind like Sherlock claimed. Trauma leaves scars. No matter how deep Sherlock buried his memories he’s been deeply changed by the loss of his childhood friend and the abuse Eurus put him through.

If Mycroft ever wondered how much he’d changed from the boy who’d held his sobbing brother as their childhood home burned down, it was easy to distract himself. Work was the best diversion and his job was never done. His memories weren’t a burden he could share. The truth about Eurus must stay buried, so the rest of his family could live.

 

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Please leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed it.  
> I am accepting fic prompts to raise money for charity. See more details here if you are interested in contributing and getting a fic:  
> http://sandssavvy.tumblr.com/post/156823863010/donations-for-fics


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